


Accidental Cat Lady

by Feynite, SeleneLavellan



Series: Dirthalene [20]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Not really a romance because they're pretending to be cats, so fluffy you might get a hairball (Haha get it?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-09-24 08:19:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feynite/pseuds/Feynite, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeleneLavellan/pseuds/SeleneLavellan
Summary: Cats that aren't cats and the lonely elven woman with a bookstore who insists she isn't a cat person that they live with.





	1. Chapter 1

It is Des who comes up with the plan.

“Humans love cats,” he insists. “I have seen it on the light boxes. All we have to do is look like cats. Then we can find sugar daddies and live like royalty!”

Fear is the most reluctant.

“Humans do not love cats,” they insist. “Humans  _tolerate_  cats. They throw boots at them, and drown them in rivers. I have seen it.”

Des shakes his head.

“You just have to find the right sorts of humans,” he insists. “Or elves. Dwarves. Whoever. The race is not important, the important thing is to find one with a nice house and very little companionship with its peers. Then it will pack bond with anything sufficiently cute and cuddly - like me.”

“You are just going to get drowned in a river again,” Fear insists.

“No. I am going to get us safe access to dreams and adoring tribute again,” Des replies, equally adamant.

In the end, the two do not come to an agreement. But that is not so uncommon. Des vows to go through with his plan, and come back once he has ascertained its effectiveness. Fear pretends to worry less than they do when he disappears for several works, and sends no word back.

Not at first, at least.

Some of the skepticism towards the plan thaws when a full month has gone by, and Des  _does_  come back.

He is wearing the cat form he designed for the venture. In his mouth, he is carrying some kind of totem. It is shaped roughly like a bird, and is clearly of mortal make. He spits it out onto the ground before them, and then sits back on his haunches, and radiates self-satisfaction.

“I have found a benefactor,” he claims. “She is an elf. She lives in the village of Redcliff, above a shop which sells repositories of mortal knowledge. For three weeks I have stayed with her. No one else has visited in that time, and she has offered me food, and let me sleep in her bed, and stroked my fur every day. And now she has given me a token of worship.”

Dirthamen can confess some fascination with the described situation. He is the first to venture closer, though Fear remains cautiously at a distance. Examining Des’ aura; checking to make certain that he is uncorrupted.

The totem is small, but it does not vanish under the weight of his scrutiny, as an illusion would. And Des looks supple and well cared-for, his magical energies rejuvenated in a way that upholds his claims. Spirits are not mean to be completely disconnected from the physical world. It takes a toll on them; leaves them more vulnerable to certain types of corruption, even as it protects them from others.

“Alright, so, the plan is a success - you can all come back with me,” he proclaims.

“Definitely not,” Fear argues. “Just because this elf is willing to indulge  _you_ , that is no guarantee that she would not try and drown the rest of us.”

This is a fair point. Des is among the most charming of them, after all.

They debate it for some time, before an agreement is reached.

Affection was young when the Veil was raised, and is nearest to vanishing from the lack of mortal contact. Des shows the little spirit how to transform, and Affection takes on the shape of a short, wide-faced cat, with stripes all along its form. A little more than half the size of Des, who declares the form ‘perfect’, and takes Affection with him to the mortal plane again.

Fear’s worries intensify. Several more weeks pass, but Dirthamen and Deceit are more calm and cautiously optimistic of the situation.

A stance which is validated when Des and Affection return.

Des has another totem in his mouth. This one looks somewhat like an overly fat fish. Affection, on the other hand, is carrying what looks like some kind of knit foot covering. They deposit the items, while Fear examines them at range, and Dirthamen and Deceit move to greet them again.

“It is just as Des said!” Affection exclaims; tail twitching excitedly back and forth. “Selene is a fabulous benefactor! She gives us food and touches us often, and lets us sleep with her and gambol in her dreams! And she is very warm, and has a box of something called lon-derry that is perfect for regaining energy in! I brought some to show.”

Dirthamen pokes curiously at the lon-derry, and then examines the second totem.

“Alright, but surely this elf will not accept more than  _two_  interloping felines,” Fear insists.

“Of course she will, she loves us,” Des counters. “You should all come along now, and we will live like royalty. Just as I said.”

More arguments ensue. But this time, Dirthamen decides to interject.

“You will go, Fear,” he decides. “Along with Deceit. Go back with Des and Affection. If this mortal rejects you, you are both quick and clever enough to escape. And if you think she has reached a limit, then I am at least the most powerful, and best suited to survive alone here.”

“We are not going to abandon you,” Fear insists.

“No, and I did not tell you to,” Dirthamen replies. “But you could visit and share your tributes with me, if this mortal is willing to offer you such things. And I would do better than anyone else in that situation.”

“Are you certain?” Deceit asks, as Fear wavers unhappily in place.

Dirthamen is firm in the choice. It is the most reasonable one to make. Des has proven his case, but there is still some merit to Fear’s caution. They debate some more, but he knows that he is unlikely to be overruled. It is rare for him to make commands at all - he is almost always obeyed, when he does.

This time is no different.

Fear and Deceit take on the shapes of two sleek, short-haired black cats, and go with Des and Affection. Dirthamen spends the next few weeks alone, before all four of them return again.

Des has brought another fish-totem, and Affection has some more lon-derry. Deceit has brought the roasted leg of a hen, and Fear has some sort of device that lets a light out from one end. But the demonstration of tributes is not nearly as necessary as the sight of Fear inclining their head towards Des.

“The plan was a good one,” they say, with only a little terseness to their tone. Des smugly licks at one of his paws. “You should come back with us.”

So Dirthamen takes on the shape of a cat. Not choosing it so much as finding it. He ends up slightly bigger than Fear or Deceit - or maybe ‘fluffier’ would be the more apt description. Long-haired and blue-eyed, with the same dark fur. His companions leave the tributes behind in their lair, and they cast a warding spell to protect it in their absence; powered by the mortal offerings.

Then they all cross through the Veil, and into the waking world.

It has been a long time since Dirthamen made that trip. He nearly loses his shape for a moment, before Deceit and Fear wind around him, and him remember it again. Des takes the lead, then; ushering them out of the woodland cave where the Veil is thing, and towards the obvious signs of mortal settlements.

Loud constructions rumble down paved roads. Even though it is dark out, light floods the environs close to the settlement. Not magelight, but or at least not primarily that kind. Instead this is the light of stolen storms, that the sundered mortals have forged into a likeness of magic.

Dirthamen is fascinated with it. But Fear and Deceit keep him moving, and stop him from lingering beneath the glow of a stormwrought banner.

It is a long trip. Or perhaps it only feels that way because it has been some time since Dirthamen travelled. He had forgotten, mostly, what it was like to be in things like weather and wet. The brush they pass through smells sweet, though, and a petrichor scent lingers around the stones of mortal construct. Des pauses at some intervals, to let the noisy constructs pass, before meowing to signal the rest of the group forward.

The moon is high when they come to a line of buildings. Shop buildings, by the looks of them. And indeed, Des leads them to one with a window full of books, and then around to the back of it. There is a narrow set of railings which they all ascend, then. Moving one at a time. Dirthamen’s coordination nearly fails him, but he only needs to stop a few times along the way. Des is the first to disappear into an open window, to be greeted by the sound of a friendly voice.

“There you are!” says the voice.

Des meows in return.

“And where’s the rest of the gang?” the voice - the mortal; Selene, he supposes - asks.

Affection follows Des, and then Deceit leaps through.

“Two, three - where’s your partner in crime?”

Fear lingers long enough to ensure that Dirthamen makes it successfully up the last bit of railing, and then heads through the window themselves.

“And, four! Okay, good, there’s supposed to be a big storm tonight-”

Dirthamen reaches the window just as a brown hand reaches out towards it.

The mortal Selene turns, and sees him. Her eyes widen in surprise.

Dirthamen had not harbored much in the way of preconceptions about Selene. But for some reason, he does think he had imagined her somewhat… older? Plainer, perhaps? Des had not extolled her beauty, as he might expect him to do, given the elf he is faced with. But then again, the plan is obviously not to seduce her. Perhaps Des had simply not thought the information relevant.

Selene’s hair is pale, and her eyes are bright. Her features are sharp. She is wearing some sort of knit overshirt, with mortal lettering spread across the front of it. ‘Bibliophiles Do It Better’. He does not know what clan that denotes, if it denotes any. Her hands smell like interesting foodstuffs, though she does not seem to be holding any at the moment. Beneath the overshirt, she seems to only be wearing a pair of brightly-patterned smallclothes.

It is a strange outfit. But Dirthamen is not well-versed in mortal fashion trends.

“Oh!” Selene says. Her fingers hesitate at the window; but her body blocks the way inside. “Shit.”

Dirthamen supposes he must present himself.

The window ledge is narrow, but he still manages a decent approximation of a bow.

Selene sighs. But she also moves aside, in what seems to be a clear invitation. Dirthamen leaps through the window, and lands on a narrow structure situated beneath it. Only then does their mortal host close the window.

 _“Mister,”_  she tuts. “What did I tell you about expanding your gang?”

Des meows.

“Yes, I  _know_  a storm is coming. I’m on to your little guilt trips,” she replies, as if interpreting his speech.

Dirthamen blinks, and wonders if she can. To his ears, it sounds only as though Des is making nonsense ‘cat noises’. But perhaps there is a linguistic nuance he is missing?

As he settles down onto the little windowside table, and regard Selene solemnly, the others seem to fall into a comfortable sort of routine. Fear jumps up to the top of a shelf of books in the room. Wedging themselves into the narrow space between the top shelf and the ceiling, until the most visible thing about them is the gleam of their eyes.

Des and Affection exit the room - which appears to be some sort of bedroom - through the open doorway. Following the scent of food. Deceit, on the other hand, leaps up onto the bed at settles on the foot of it.

Selene returns Dirthamen’s scrutiny. After a moment, she presents him her hand.

Dirthamen stares at it for a moment, uncertain of protocols when he is in this shape. After a moment, he leans forward and delicately presses his nose to it. This seems to satisfy requirements, as Selene moves the same hand to tentatively touch his fur.

She pats his back gently a few times. When he does not move away, she begins to send some searching fingers through his fur. It feels fairly pleasant; so he leans into the touch.

“Well, you don’t seem to have fleas…” Selene murmurs.

No indeed, he does not. He would have no reason to tolerate them. Selene gently scritches him, though, and it feels  _wonderful._  How long has it been since he felt physical touch like this? From an entity that was not connected to him, like Fear and Deceit? He arches into it, and finds a low, rumbling sound begins to reverberate out from him.

Selene snorts.

“Buttering me up, hm?” she says. But she does not stop scritching, either. Not for several minutes anyway. When she finally does pull her hand away, she gives him a parting pat.

“I guess I’ll put down another dish of food,” she decides, with a resigned sigh.

Dirthamen flicks his tail, and finally concedes his own last, lingering reservation.

Des’ plan does indeed seem to be a success.


	2. Chapter 2

Cat life is a very interesting experience to adjust to.

Days take on a certain amount of routine. Dirthamen spends his first night sleeping between Fear and Deceit, at the bottom of Selene’s bed. Des and Affection curl up in the floor of her closet, and Selene seems surprised that Fear has ‘come down from the rafters’. There are no rafters, however.

Fear explains that the have found several high up spots that provide good vantage points and would be difficult to attack, and this is probably what Selene is referring to.

The storm that their elf predicted arrives an hour after they do. Rain lashes the windows and wind makes the structure around them creak. Dirthamen wakes in the middle of the night to the flash of lightning, and the crack of thunder. He moves to go and check on their resident elf - storms in the Fade are generally a result of dissonant events in the Waking world, and for a moment he forgets that storms in the Waking world are the result of elemental forces colliding instead. He wonders if Selene is in turmoil.

She is only asleep, though, and Dirthamen is tired. He settles back down, next to her arm. A few minutes later, Affection and Des jump onto the bed, too. Des climbs up onto one of Selene’s pillows, and Affection wedges themselves into the vacated space between Fear and Deceit.

Dirthamen drifts off again.

It is morning when he wakes up again. He is curled neatly between Selene’s chest and the rumpled quilt of her bed. Her fingers are stroking through his fur again. He rumbles in approval, and stretches out a bit. Des seems to have migrated to the spot directly beside him, draping himself over one of Selene’s arms. Deceit has moved, too, because Dirthamen turns, and sees them lying at the top of Selene’s head.

Selene herself looks quite awake.

“I really have to pee,” she says. Quietly, and woefully.

Dirthamen wonders why she does not simply get up and attend to it, in that case.

But she stays for several more minutes, before finally letting out a frustrated sigh, and gently nudging himself and Des off of her arm. Deceit makes a sleepy noise of complaint as Selene gets up, while Affection swiftly moves to settle into the warm spot in the blankets that she has left behind. Fear seems to have gone off. Dirthamen looks around, and eventually finds them back on the tall bookshelf in the room. Watching as Selene makes her way through the door beside it, and then closes it behind her.

The sound of running water follows.

Dirthamen is rather glad that his body is a construction of magic, and thus free of some of the routine care which true physical forms require. Though the energy from food is warming, and he is reminded of that all over again when Selene finally returns, and cheerfully announces that it is ‘breakfast time’. She leads them all into the bigger part of her dwelling, which has a segment that hums with appliances, and a sitting room with squashy furniture in an assortment of styles. Selene puts down dishes of fresh water and plates of soft food.

Des meows at her. She rolls her eyes, and picks one of the plates back up.

“Alright, your highness, I’ll heat it up,” she says.

She puts the plate into a humming box for a moment. When she takes it back out, it is steaming lightly, and Des seems very pleased.

But Dirthamen finds the food is quite good cold, by his own standards. He eats his own portion as Selene procures a bowl of something for herself, and then settles down into her seating area. Drinking is also pleasant. Dirthamen has more water than food, and lets Affection happily eat the remainder of his plate as he makes his way curiously over to where Selene is sitting.

When she shows no signs of disapproval, he hops up onto the large, soft couch beside her. She is  _very_  warm. Cats run cold, it seems, and Dirthamen finds himself drawn to her. He moves closer, inch by inch, and when Selene only glances at him and then ventures another pet down his back, he flops himself into her lap.

Which is very,  _very_  warm.

“You’re worse than the little one,” Selene tells him. She also keeps petting him, however, so he does not take offense. He is not even certain what he is meant to be ‘worse’ about. Instead he relishes the mortal attention and the impact it has upon him. The physical warmth is mirrored by and influx of spiritual rejuvenation. It has been too long since he had any, he realizes; the effect is like soothing a wound too long untended. Like the cool, clear feeling of fresh water on his tongue. He curls into Selene’s lap and purrs and purrs, until she finally dislodges him.

“Sorry,” she says. “Sorry, sorry, but I have to open up the shop.”

Dirthamen blinks as he is deposited onto a nearby cushion, and Selene hurries up from her seat. She drops her empty bowl into the kitchen sink, and then goes back into the bedroom. A few moments later she emerges again. She is wearing a different over-shirt - this one says ‘Reading Rainbow’ on it - and a pair of leggings, with matching footwraps. She ties her hair back from her face, and scoops up a large, decorative bag from a place beside another door which Dirthamen has not been through. Something jangles, and he sees her pull a ring of keys from it.

“Okay, shop time!” she announces. “Come on, kitties. Time to make some bacon.”

Bacon?

Dirthamen blinks in confusion.

Des is the first to respond to the call, though. Tail high as he hurries over. Then Affection and Deceit follow. Dirthamen does, too, as he hears a soft  _thump,_  and Fear drops down from where they had apparently taken up position atop the fridge. While Selene holds the big door open, they all follow Des down to a narrow stairwell, and another door.

This  _other_  other door leads into the same shop that Dirthamen had seen from their initial street view. Selene must confer with a warding panel before it opens, however. Then she turns on several lights, and lets them loose amid several stacks and shelves of tomes.

The scent of books is thick in the air.

It is not a large library, but it is still quite substantial. There are many interesting displays. A small seating area is positioned next to one of the front windows, and several small signs seem to denote the categories of books. Half the store seems to be divided into ‘used’ and ‘new’ segments, which ‘new’ being primarily around the main shop counter. Selene heads over to that and begins working with some sort of device situated atop it. Behind the counter there is a white basket, filled with soft blankets.

Affections winds their way between Selene’s legs, before happily flopping into the basket. Deceit flops on top of them, while Des jumps up onto the counter, and watches intently as Selene works with the device there. Fear vanishes. Dirthamen has a general sense of where they are, but he does not see them much.

For his own part, Dirthamen investigates the shop, and eventually settles into one of the chairs near to the window. From which he can see Selene, but also the street outside.

When Selene is satisfied with her device, she unlocks the shop door, and flips over a sign in it. Then she pulls a box out from underneath the front counter, and begins refilling a display near to the front.

For some time, the shop remains quiet. Dirthamen watches as the street traffic outside increases. After a moment, Selene locks the door and flips the sign again.

“Slow morning,” she murmurs. “And  _somebody_  stopped me from making my usual coffee this morning. Back in a flash, kitties.”

Dirthamen is treated to an unexpected pat at this declaration, as Selene goes back upstairs. Des remains at the counter, but Deceit opts to follow after her. Dirthamen is considering doing the same, when they are gone for more than a moment; however, a strange scent begins to waft down into the shop, and then Selene and Deceit return. Selene carrying some sort of silvery drinking vessel, with steam rising out of the top.

She flips the sight and unlocks the door again. Right before some foot traffic finally arrives at the shop front, and several mortals make their way in.

Dirthamen watches them with interest, as Selene greets them with a ‘good morning’, and they respond in kind. One of them has an inquiry about a specific tome of knowledge, which Selene is able to provide. The other two are ‘just browsing’, which they do for several minutes, before leaving with their friend. Most business follows, after that. Mortals of a variety of sizes, ages, and descriptions all file into the shop. Dirthamen watches them, for the most part. Sometimes one of them will lift a small lightbox and angle it towards him, or one of the others. It makes him nervous, but it does not seem to actually do much of anything, and the others are unperturbed.

At one point Des hops down to go and drink from a water fountain, in a little room that is behind the main counter. It looks to be a sort of store room. Dirthamen follows him, and drinks, too, and finds that there are many more boxes and shelves. Less elegantly arranged than out in the shop. And there is a strange box full of sand, which he does not know the purpose of.

_Litterbox,_  Des thinks at him.  _We don’t need it, because we aren’t real cats. But I put water in it sometimes so she thinks we’re using it._

With an internal shrug, they head back out into the shop. More visitors come. Selene eventually declares something called ‘lunch break’ and flips the sign and locks the door again, and goes back upstairs to retrieve a box of food. Des meows at her.

“No,” she says. “If I give you some then the others will start, and it’s  _my_  lunch.”

Des meows and does something with his eyes that makes him look disconcertingly forlorn.

Selene sighs and breaks off a tiny piece of food, and offers it to him.

Deceit meows.

With another sigh, Selene breaks off more tiny pieces of the food, and gives one to Deceit, and then, just as they start meowing, one to Affection, too. Fear drops down from some unseen perch, and meows. Selene offers them a tiny bite.

Dirthamn sits, watching, curious about the ritual. Should he meow too? Or would that be presumptuous at this stage? He stays put. Selene looks over towards him, and after a moment, breaks off another piece of food. She extends it in his direction, and makes some odd noises.

“Come on, fair’s fair,” she says.

After a moment, Dirthamen ventures forward. He puts his paws onto her leg in order to boost himself up high enough to reach the offered tidbit. It is a piece of seafood, he realizes. It tastes good when he eats it, and Selene grins at him.

Des meows again.

With a sigh, Selene reaches over and moves him off the counter and onto the floor.

“Nope,” she says. “You got your treat, now go play with your new friend.”

Des seems to huff a little over that. But after a moment, he turns to look consideringly at Dirthamen. And then he tackles him. Initiating some play fighting which, to Dirthamen’s surprise, he actually seems to have some instinct for. It is not frightening, either. The two of them bat at one another for a few minutes, exchanging tackles and bopping one another with their paws, until Selene finishes the rest of her lunch.

And this, Dirthamen learns, is the structure of most days as a cat in the Waking world. Eventually the sky goes dark, and the shop is closed. Selene sends everyone back up to the living section, and opens up her bedroom window. Des wants to go ‘roaming’, but Fear talks him out of it, insisting that it is too dangerous and that another storm might come. Selene gives them more food and more non-fountain water. She puts moving displays onto the box in her sitting room, and when she sits down, Dirthamen ends up in her lap again. Purring as she strokes his fur and reads a book, and also tells the people on the glowing light box that they are making Bad Choices.

Dirthamen is too sleepy to pay attention to whether they are or not, but he thinks she is probably right.

At some point he drifts off to sleep, and ventures into the Dreaming. He checks on some of the other spirits he knows, and whispers begin to spread of the effectiveness of Des’ plan.

When he wakes, the sitting room is dark. Selene is gone. Dirthamen jumps down from the couch, and pads into her bedroom, and finds her sleeping on the bed. He jumps up and nestles himself against the warmth at her back, before falling asleep again.

The next day, things go mostly the same.

After a week has passed, Dirthamen has begun to adjust to the new situation. Sometimes Des leaves to go exploring in the morning; sometimes Fear or Deceit or both of them go with him, out through the bedroom window. Dirthamen finds himself disinclined to, and Affection vastly prefers to be on hand, just in case Selene should decide to do lon-derry. The first time she does, Dirthamen hops into the warm basket with Affection.

Selene bemoans them getting ‘cat hairs on everything’, but also carries them around in the basket and does not make them get out.

Minding the shop is an important job. Selene does most of it, although there is also another elf, named Marassal, and a dwarf called Carina, who come and do ‘shifts’ too. Affection likes them - Affection likes everyone, and will solicit pats from all customers and visitors - but Des considers them a risk for drawing Selene out of their pack bond. And Deceit dislikes Marassal in particular, and tends to drape all over Selene’s shoulders and hiss at him if he gets too close.

There does not actually seem to be anything wrong with either mortal, though. Sometimes Carina scritches Dirthamen behind his ears, and Marassal called him a ‘new fleabag’ at one point, but Selene corrected him as to Dirthamen’s lack of fleas.

Dirthamen has been there for two weeks before something goes wrong.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, drawn back to awareness by the whispering disquiet of the spirit in his dreams. Selene is asleep; Dirthamen clambers gently off of her chest, and makes his way over to the open bedroom window. He can feel something  _pulling_  at him. Something old, something that has not called for him in ages.

Something familiar, that puts ice in his veins.

He had thought his brother no longer interested in his dealings. But apparently, leaving the Fade has given his brother’s disinterest cause to waver.

It would not be wise, Dirthamen thinks, for his brother to know he has company.

He makes his way outside, down the arrangement of ladders near Selene’s window, and onto the street. He is not certain where all the others are; Affection is inside, most likely, but Des and Fear and Deceit could still be out wandering; or they could have gotten back hours ago. Finding Falon’Din before he finds them seems wiser, but Dirthamen has only made it around to the front of the shop before he feels a familiar resonance.

Less harmonious than it once was.

When he looks up, he sees an owl perched atop the street lamp, just outside of the bookstore.

For a moment, Dirthamen simply locks gazes with his brother. Sensing accusation, and betrayal. He waits for a question to fall. For his brother to try and probe at his mind.

Instead, a furious shriek breaks the air, and the owl dives at him.

Dirthamen is not expecting it. But his reflexes have benefited from his improved strength, and time spent as a cat; he skitters away, running on instinct, and narrowly avoiding the razor-sharp talons angling towards him. Falon’Din lets out another furious screech. Dirthamen dashes towards the back of the shop again, and tries to take shelter beneath the dumpster there.

It is a bad plan. Falon’Din shrieks and sends a bolt of magic into the metal frame, that makes all of Dirthamen’s hairs prickle in warning. He dashes out again to narrowly avoid being fried by the spell, and runs straight into his brother’s waiting ambush. Falon’Din rakes at him with his talons. Dirthamen only just conjures a barrier it time to avoid being slashed, but it shatters, and he flees for more cover. Trying to take some beneath the rails that lead up to Selene’s window. At least those keep Falon’Din from using his wings to swoop down; his brother moves to cast another spell, though, shrieking angrily.

Dirthamen braces himself.

His brother’s magic fizzles out before it can manifest, however. Just leaving behind a furious, impotent owl.

It seems, in Dirthamen’s absence, Falon’Din has weakened considerably as well.

_Brother,_  he tries.

The owl shakes at the railings, and screeches.

Dirthamen attempts a plaintive call with his cat’s voice, hoping to at least calm some of the rage; to reach a point where they might speak.

_Traitor!_  Is the only sentiment Falon’Din sends back, snapping his beak in reply.

Neither of them is expecting it when the broom hits him.

Falon’Din goes flailing backwards. Dirthamen blinks, and tilts his head out of hiding to find that Selene has come down to the street. She is holding the shop broom, and is wearing her slippers, and she looks very angry as Falon’Din flares his wings at her. But Dirthamen’s brother seems to have little recourse against another whack from the broom.

“Get! Go on! Go hunt some rats or something, stay away from my cats!” Selene demands, over the sounds of furious animal screeching.

Falon’Din begins to tear into the broom, glaring murder. After a moment, to Dirthamen’s surprise, Selene drops the handle and reaches over to scoop him out of his hiding place. Then she turns and runs with him back to the shop, and carries him in through the side door, that leads to the little upstairs living area.

“Holy shit,” she says.

“Mow,” Dirthamen replies in agreement.

A clatter from upstairs draws both of their attention. Selene carries him up, running quite fast, and Dirthamen’s heart sinks at the prospect of the open bedroom window.

But when they get there, the window is shut. Fear is sitting beside the glass, paws on the latch; while Falon’Din scrabbles at the glass, and screeches angrily from the other side.

“Holy  _shit,”_  Selene says, more emphatically. “Do owls get rabies?!”

Falon’Din starts ripping at the exterior window frame, and Selene seems to decide that she does not need an answer. She rushes over and scoops up Fear. Dirthamen is relieved to see that Des and Deceit, along with Affection, are also in the bedroom. She shoos them out and closes the bedroom door, and picks up the small black box that she sometimes talks into. Then she talks into it for a while, as she subjects Dirthamen to inspection.

He does not think now is a good time for petting, but Selene is very insistent; parting his fur and running her hands over him until she has checked him all over. Then she she sinks onto the couch with him, as the sounds of furious owl attack carry on from the next room.

“Okay, yes, thanks,” she says into her black rectangle. “I appreciate it. Yes, it’s the bookstore on fifth. The one with the purple sign, absolutely. Thanks again.”

She casts aside the rectangle, then, and squishes Dirthamen to her chest.

“You need a bath,” she tells him. “ _Fuck_.”

Dirthamen is inclined to think that the more pressing issue is his enraged twin’s assault.

Des meows.

“No I’m not taking him  _right now,_  we have to wait for animal services,” she says. Then she shushes Dirthamen, which seems somewhat strange, until he realizes that he is shaking.

Oh.

How long has he been doing that for?

He does it for a while longer, despite himself, as Selene pets him. Des and Deceit come and sit up with them, while Fear keeps one eye on the bedroom door, and Affection hides underneath the couch. Eventually, Selene turns on the light box, which makes it more difficult to hear Falon’Din’s shrieking. But Dirthamen still notices when the shrieking changes tones, and when, after a while, it disappears altogether.

Selene’s black rectangle makes a ringing tone.

She puts it up to her ear.

“Hello?” she answers, and pauses for a moment. There is another voice, coming from the rectangle. But Dirthamen cannot quite make it out. “Oh,  _good._  Thank you so much! I really appreciate it.”

There’s another pause. Then Selene snorts.

“Yeah, it was something else,” she agrees.

She stands up, holding the rectangle in one hand and Dirthamen with the other, and makes her way over to the bedroom door. Fear tangles around her legs, and makes an unhappy noise. She gently shushes them as she opens it; the window is covered in smear marks, but is otherwise unharmed and unbroken. Selene carries Dirthamen over as the others follow, and they all look outside to confirm that Falon’Din has gone.

“Thanks again,” Selene says, and puts down her rectangle.

She pets at Dirthamen.

“Okay, lets get you…  _not_  smelling like burnt garbage for some reason,” she mutters.

Dirthamen is carried into the bathroom.

He has not come in here many times before, truth be told. It is a small room, and though some of the devices seem interesting, it is often quite cold. Deceit likes the sink, though. They wedge themselves into it, along with Affection, as Selene reaches over to turn on the tap and start running the bath. She puts down the plug, all while keeping hold of Dirthamen.

Des immediately hops into the water. Fear is, again, nowhere to be seen; but Dirthamen suspects that they are still surveying the window.

“Okay,” Selene says. “Let’s find out if you’re a normal cat, or a total weirdo like Des.”

She puts him down in the bath.

Dirthamen sits in the rising water for a moment, and blinks up at her. The water is pleasantly warm. And, now that he has calmed down, he realizes that he does indeed smell somewhat unpleasant. He swishes his tail a little, while Des goes and sits underneath the running tap.

“Mow?” he ventures to Selene.

She smiles at him.

“I guess you’re a water-loving weirdo, too,” she concludes. But she does not seem displeased by the result. Dirthamen examines the water somewhat, and then settles into it. The issue of his brother is a perilous new development. Selene picks up a bottle of some sort of unscented bathing lotion, while Dirthamen converses with the others nearby.

_Falon’Din has found us,_  he observes.

_Yeah, no kidding,_  Des replies. Selene starts applying a lather to Dirthamen’s fur.  _What did he do?_

_Nothing,_  Dirthamen replies, perplexed.  _He just attacked me._

_That’s not nothing,_  Des scoffs.

_He means Falon’Din did not say anything or ask for anything,_  Deceit surmises.

_We don’t have to leave, do we?_  Affection worries.

_No,_  Des says.  _He’s a weakling now. Selene beat him with a broom, and mortals collected him when she called. It would be foolish to leave._

_Perhaps_ ** _I_** _should go…_  Dirthamen suggests.

Des swats him.

_Don’t be stupid,_  he replies.

“No, no playing in the bath,” Selene scolds, catching his paw and moving it away. “Behave.”

Des subsides back underneath the tap. But then Selene turns it off, and he makes a discontented sound.

_Des is right,_  Fear opines, as they finally slink into the bathroom.

_Can I get that in writing?_ Des requests. Fear ignores the comment.

_We have a strong position here. Falon’Din was a surprise, but it seems he can be repelled. We should take advantage of that,_  they conclude.

Dirthamen feels a pang of guilt. It has been a long time since he could bring himself to keep company with his brother. When the first began to weaken, Falon’Din attacked him. Trying to devour him, to absorb his strength in order to prevent the inevitable weakening. It was not a good time. Dirthamen understands his brother’s motives, but he would also prefer not to be devoured. It seems that Falon’Din’s plans have not changed, however.

He rests his chin atop the water. Selene clucks her tongue and starts rinsing the bubbles out of his fur.

“There,” she says, and plucks up a towel. She scoops him back out of the bath, and starts to dry him off. “That’s  _much_  better.”

Dirthamen thinks he preferred being in the water, actually. It is much colder out of it, and his damp fur feels unpleasant. But he still finds himself purring as Selene cuddles him and dries him,and then wraps him up in the towel and puts him down, before repeating the process with Des.

Then she lets out a positively  _exhausted_  sigh, and pushes herself back up to her feet.

“Okay, gang,” she says. “I think we should try that bed time thing again.”

She leaves the bathroom, flicking off the light but leaving the door open. Dirthamen ventures out after her, but the others are not far behind. Deceit and Affection climb back out of their sink, and Des abandons the towels. Dirthamen uses a little magic to finish drying off his fur, as Deceit and Fear both flank him. All five of them jump up onto the bed with Selene. She blinks at them, a little consternated; but after a moment she just sighs, and sags into her pillows. Affection settles at her feet while Des climbs up to her head, and Fear and Deceit curl up on either side of her. Dirthamen completes the ritual by hopping onto her chest.

All of them synchronize their vibrational harmonies to maximize rejuvenation.

This is the first night that Dirthamen ventures into Selene’s dreams.

He does not do it intentionally. But he finds himself enfolded into it anyway, as the others are brought along, bound up in similar currents with Selene’s mortal mind the only factor able to form structure within the Fade. The magical energies give way to gauzy curtains and moonlit windows. A tower, lined with bookshelves and dance floors, and marked by balconies that overlook the distant monuments of the Fade.

Dirthamen drifts around in spirit form. He finds Fear and Deceit twirling around the tower in their raven shapes. Affection, still a cat, chases the edges of nearby curtains and tries to catch the fabric in their paws. They keep pace with Dirthamen as he drifts up the tower; at least until Deceit swoops by, and then they get distracted trying to play chase.

One floor of the tower spreads out into a dance hall. He finds Des there, wearing one of his more seductive forms, and dancing with some specters conjured by the scene.

He leaves his friend to it, and carries on upwards. Wondering where their hostess has gone, until he finds her at last on the top of the tower.

The roof looks out over the broken landscape of the Fade. Selene perches at the highest point, with her gaze tilted upwards. Dirthamen follows the line of her vision. But if she is seeing something more than the whirling ephemera of her dream’s boundaries, he cannot discern it.

The ephemera is rather interesting on its own, though, so it may well be that.

As he looks upwards, the dream shifts slightly. And then Selene is standing beside him, instead, holding a rectangle of light in her hands. She tugs at his shape, grasping a tendril and pulling it casually towards her, as she sits down at a small table.

“We need to study this,” she informs him.

“Study what?” he asks.

Her brows furrow. The overshirt she is wearing is even large than most, with question marks patterned on it, and she has on the worn, soft grey shorts that she seems to like best.

“The…  _this_ … we need to study it,” she insists. “Help me take notes.”

She summons another rectangle of light, and hands it towards him. Dirthamen blinks at it, but accepts the offer. In his hands it only seems to shine like the conjured moonlight. Selene nods in satisfaction, though, and begins to move her fingers across her own. Typing at parts and rearranging things, and looking up at the sky. When Dirthamen mimics her movements, she becomes inordinately pleased. A pattern of hearts spreads across her shirt.

“We should record this, too,” she decides, and conjures up an unfamiliar device. She aims it upwards, narrowing her eyes. “If we can figure out the pattern, then we can prevent future attacks.”

Dirthamen pauses.

“Attacks from what?” he wonders.

Selene’s brow furrows again. Her shirt changes back to question marks.

“…Bad things,” she concludes. “We shouldn’t narrow it down too much. Hand me the thermometer.”

Dirthamen finds a small device on the table, and hands it to her. It turns Selene’s shirt back to hearts again, as she thanks him, and then hurls it up towards the sky. It breaks apart into several motes of light. Selene nods, and turns back to her rectangle.

“Very interesting,” she murmurs.

Dirthamen presses his tendrils dutifully to his light box.

They continue on in this fashion for some time, until Des comes up the tower staircase, and laughs at them.

“Selene!” he calls. “Come and dance with me!”

Selene rolls her eyes.

“We’re doing important research, here! Go dance with yourself!” she counters.

Des makes his way over, and flops against her back. A few red and purple flames kick up between them. Selene bats them away like errant moths, and a pattern of squiggly lines appears on her shirt. Dirthamen does not know why, but the lines seem ‘annoyed’ somehow. But they only last for a moment. When Des does not try and drag her away from her ‘research’, they settle down into a more friendly pattern.

Occasionally, Des will help Selene throw things at the void. This seems to garner some approval.

By the time they wake, her shirt is patterned with hearts again. Dirthamen blinks as the dream dissolves, and finds himself in his cat form again. Lying on Selene’s chest, with her fingers buried in the ruff of his neck.

For some reason, it is almost enough to make Dirthamen forget Falon’Din’s attack the night before.

It is strange.

The day begins, and they go through their usual routine. Marassal has a shift in the shop today, and Selene tells him a great deal about the ‘crazy owl’ that attacked last night. Dirthamen sits in his chair and watches the shop front, watches people come and go. Buying their tomes of knowledge and conversing, and holding up their rectangles.

And while he does dwell on the past, he finds he is less disturbed than he might guess.

Falon’Din has found him.

But it does not seem terribly dire. Falon’Din was thwarted with a broom.

Selene has to acquire a new one, though. She does it while she goes ‘shopping’, during Marassal’s shift. She also procures a bag of ‘treats’, which makes the others excited, as it contains  _totems._  Des is given a squishy, mouse-shaped one, and Fear and Deceit are given bird-shaped totems with bells inside of them. Affection is offered a round ball with another, smaller ball inside of it.

Dirthamen is new, so he does not expect a totem. But Selene pulls another from her bag, and extends a small totem that looks like a distorted, furious owl.

“Here,” Selene tells him. “Revenge.”

Dirthamen accepts the gift with the gravity it deserves. But he does not truly wish to torment Falon’Din. He keeps it safe, however, just in case it is required as a defense. A ward against his return, perhaps.

Over the next few days, he makes a habit of carrying it to and from the shop with him, and wedging it into a hiding place in the corner of his favourite shop chair.

A week passes before the next disaster strikes.

Dirthamen is getting a drink from the fountain room when Fear runs in, hissing. The sense of presence is not far behind them.

_He’s here._

Not needing to ask who Fear means, Dirthamen moves over to the open crack of the door, and peers out. He cannot see anything past the main counter, though. Deceit hurries in a moment later, agitated, while Des turns to look at them from his post on the counter.

_He’s in an elf shape,_  Des supplies.

_Did he see any of us?_  Dirthamen asks his interwoven aspects. Fear and Deceit don’t think so, though. The three of them stay put, the better to avoid attracting attention, while Des keeps watch.

_Where is Affection?_  Fear wonders.

A glance over, and Dirthamen confirms what Fear must have noticed - Affection’s soft white basket is currently empty.

_Selene has them,_  Des says, tail twitching in agitation.  _Falon’Din is heading towards them._

Concern overwhelms him. Selene may be strong enough to handle Falon’Din, but he has surely been trying to recover some strength in the week since their last meeting. And he would stoop to means beyond Dirthamen in order to regain it. Also, Selene may not recognize his threat, nor be prepared to respond to violence. The new broom is currently in the fountain room behind Dirthamen himself. Selene is unarmed, and carrying Affection, who is not good at fighting and whom Falon’Din has often tried to devour.

In a moment, Dirthamen makes a decision.

He must get to his totem.

_Are they looking this way?_  He asks Des.

_No,_  Des confirms.

Now or never, then. Dirthamen does not have time to delay, for once, and while he nearly freezes, in the end he does not. In a sudden move, he darts out from the fountain room, and dashes around the front counter. The other call after him in surprise as he runs as fast he can for his favourite chair. Opting for speed over stealth and crossing the shop floor in record time, before he leaps onto the chair.

_Where is it?_

He digs the owl totem out of the corner, and is a fraction of a second away from sinking his teeth into it when a pair of hands close around him painfully tight. He jerks, startled - a costly mistake. The owl totem falls beyond reach as the rough hands snatch him away from the chair.

“Finally got you, you furry sack of shit!” Falon’Din exclaims.

A reflexive, mournful meow - somewhat pained - escapes Dirthamen, as his brother tightens his painful grip further.

He does not notice the odd mood which has fallen over the shop until a moment later, as he blinks and sees that the handful of patrons inside have gone silent. He cannot see Selene, nor what Fear, Deceit, and Des might be doing over by the counter. But the majority of negative energy seems to be emanating from the store customers, who look very unhappy.

“Just what the  _heck_  do you think you’re doing?!” one of shop regulars demands; a large vashoth mage, whose fingers spark with some faint blue light.

“This is my cat,” Falon’Din snaps.

The other vashoth customer, who often comes in with their mage companion, closes their book.

“That’s  _Selene’s_  cat,” they say, as a dwarven customer watches, glaring.

“He’s one of the shop cats. Put him down, you’re holding him wrong,” their partner chimes in, tapping a blue-lit finger in warning.

“This traitorous bastard doesn’t belong to  _anybody_ except for  _me-”_

Falon’Din’s objections are cut short by the sudden impact of a broom against the side of his head.

He drops Dirthamen. Dirthamen leaps for the chair again, and starts desperately gnawing at the owl totem, as Selene thumps Falon’Din with the broom for a second time.

“Keep your hands off my cats!” she snarls. “And get out of my store! You’re banned! BANNED!”

Falon’Din snarls objections, but more of them are cut short by the blows from the broom. Dirthamen whacks the owl totem into the arm of the chair. His brother stumbles backwards, towards the door of the shop. But then he catches himself, and attempts to strike at Selene. His fist meets a flare of blue magic instead as the other shop patrons converge, and help Selene to shove Falon’Din onto the street. Dirthamen does not stop chewing at the totem until his brother stops hammering his hands against the closed door.

Falon’Din glares at him once, through the shop window. And then he stalks off in a furry.

Dirthamen lets the owl totem fall from his mouth and onto the floor.

He allows himself a moment of awe as Selene lowers her weapon and moves away from the door, too. The other patrons all marvel at the instability of his brother, while Dirthamen breathes gingerly and takes stock of the bruises on his ribs. Affection leaps up onto the chair with him, purring comfortingly. Selene comes over and Dirthamen must once again submit to inspection.

“You’re just a trouble magnet, aren’t you?” Selene says, sympathetically. Worry in her gaze.

_Yes,_  Dirthamen agrees.

It comes out as a ‘meow’ though.


	3. Chapter 3

Dirthamen is sitting on the floor when the blanket falls onto his head.

It makes things much darker.

It is also somewhat large, but not heavy. Dirthamen sits for a moment, assessing the situation. The blanket had been knocked off the arm of the couch by Affection, moving in to claim some evening attention from Selene. As near as he could guess, anyway. It is unlikely that he is supposed to remain underneath it, though, so after a moment, he stands up.

Unfortunately, the blanket is light enough that when he begins to walk, it simply moves with him.

After a few moments of traversing across the living room, he hears the sounds of Selene snickering.

He attempts to follow the sound, but his navigational skills are not optimal, and after a moment he accidentally  _thumps_  head first into the leg of the coffee table. Selene’s snickering intensifies. Dirthamen pauses, and sits back down to regroup and consider his options.

He could get the blanket off easily, of course, but it would be somewhat conspicuous… Or he could try batting it off, but the last time he did something like that he ripped a hole in the blanket, and Selene was displeased…

There is another method with a high probability of ease and certainty, though.

After a moment, Dirthamen tilts his head towards the sound of Selene’s laughter, and lets out a quiet but plaintive ‘meow’.

“Ha… aww,” Selene says, as her laughter trails off into a sympathetic sound. There is a rustling and a shuffle, and then Dirthamen sees light as the blanket is lifted. He blinks, while Selene smiles, and then reaches down to pick him up.

She settles him into her lap as she sits back down on the couch. Affection flops against her side, purring as their tail flips lazily back and forth. Dirthamen curls into his optimal lap-sitting ball and commences to do the same, his chest rumbling as Selene cards her fingers through his fur. With her free hand, she puts the blanket back onto the arm of the sofa.

“Weirdo,” she says, affectionately.

Dirthamen just presses his face against her stomach and purrs harder.


	4. Chapter 4

Selene stares down the large, brightly colored bag on the shelf in front of her. There are six more just like it with different brand names, all touting ‘organic’ and 'grain free!’ and 'real chicken!’.

Which are…probably important things, she guesses?

Why would they make such a big deal about it if they weren’t?

 

She lets out a groan, dragging a hand down her face and pushing her cart out of the aisle as she tosses a few new cat toys into it instead.

If she buys cat food, that’s like, officially taking responsibility for the cats. No more 'strays’ who just happen to be in the store or live in her room or try to steal her lunch…

She’ll just buy some extra regular groceries instead. Some inexpensive fish cuts, some boneless chicken she can cut up and shred, and whatever else they need for a balanced diet.

Not that any of them seem to be having health problems so far, thankfully.

She worries, sometimes, about how clean their litter-box always is. She’s scoured her home for hidden places they might be doing their business; but nothing’s turned up, and there’s no smell coming out of her home or shop, so whatever they’re doing seems to be working out.

 

Distracted  by the search results on her phone of someone saying how cats shouldn’t have dry food at alland the second tab of someone else claiming you should never give a cat  _wet_  food, she doesn’t notice the smaller woman at the end of the aisle.

A mistake the loud clattering of their carts smacking into each other quickly corrects.

 

“Oh no!” Selene cries, phone slipping into her pocket and one hand moving to cover her mouth. “I’m so sorry are you alright?”

“I’m fine-”

“Do you need some ice-oh no, did I break your eggs? I’m so sorry, let me help you-”

“It’s alright, really-”

“I can’t believe-oh geez, I was so-”

“It’s  _ **fine,**_ ” the woman-a dwarf, Selene realizes- assures her, rubbing tenderly at the end of her nose. “It’s not the first time someone hasn’t seen me, and- _oh_.”

 

Selene blinks as the dwarven woman looks up at her, face darkening beneath dark brown bangs.

“I didn’t-,” The woman clears her throat slightly. “I mean if you want to exchange insurance and phone numbers, I certainly wouldn’t say no.”

 

Selene blinks again. “…What?”

The dwarven womans face darkens further, and she scratches awkwardly at the back of her head. “I was. Erm. I was trying to flirt. Sorry.”

 

It takes a moment for the words to register, and Selenes eyes widen when they do. “Oh! Oh, that was very good,”

“Okay, well, you don’t need to patronize me-”

“No, no!” Selene says waving her hands in front of her. “I’m serious! It was a good fit for the situation, with the crash and everything! Very smooth, I’m just, uh-”

“Not interested?”

“Not used to it,” Selene explains. “I mostly live alone with-” She hesitates; 'I live alone with a bunch of stray cats’ is probably not a great way to reply to a pick up line. “I live alone,” She finishes lamely.

The womans mouth quirks slightly, and she clears her throat again, holding her hand out. “I’m Carina,” She introduces.

“Selene,” She returns, shaking the offered hand.

–

 

It’s another week or two of exchanging text messages before Carina asks her on the date.

They’re debating the particulars when the cats finally come up.

 

→  _I could pick u up? Since I actually have a car lmao_

←  _Maybe._

Selene hesitates before biting her lip and sending the next text.

 

← _Do you like cats?_

She rubs at the top of Des’s head while she stares at her phone, heart hammering for a reason she can’t quite place.

 

→  _From a distance_

→  _Allergic_  💀 💀 💀

 

←  _Probably for the best we meet somewhere else then_

→  _You have a cat?_

Selene makes a soft contemplating hum before sending back

←  _I do not have A cat._

 

→ _You have two cats??_

←  _Noo…._

→ _Lmao im dating a crazy cat lady how many do u have???_

 

Selene snorts

 

← _Getting a little ahead of yourself there with the 'dating’ claim._

→ _We’re still going on the date right?_

← _Yeah_

→  _Then we’re dating darling_  😉  

 

Selene can feel her own face heating up slightly before she shakes her head.

←  _Not until 7 on Friday_

→ _ok_

→ _I can wait for a good thing._ 😉 😉

 

Selene can feel smoke starting to rise around the tips of her fingers, pulling them away from Des so as not to singe his fur.

“I’m not a crazy cat lady,” She murmurs aloud to no one in particular.

…except for the cats in the room.

Alright, well. That’s probably not helping things.

 

At least she’ll have some contact with a non-cat in a few days.

That’ll help; right?


	5. Chapter 5

“These are  _date clothes,_  okay? We don’t sleep on the date clothes,” Selene says.

Affection blinks, and tilts their head. It is Lon-derry Day, which is Affection’s favourite day because it means napping in the warm basket full of soft things that smell good. But for some reason, when they’d gone to jump into the basket today, Selene had caught them and stopped them. And then started started talking about  _dates._

She keeps her grip on them with one arm, and awkwardly starts trying to lift up the lon-derry basket with the other. Affection wriggles, but her grip is firm. They remain in her grasp as she lifts both them and the basket, and even their most plaintive mews do not seem to work. The warm basket of softs is  _right there_  but they cannot get inside of it.

“I know, I know, just give me a minute,” Selene says, as she carries Affection and the basket into her room. She puts the basket down, then, and fishes out the top few layers of lon-derry. The Date-loaves, maybe? And then she  _finally_  lets Affection go.

They plop into the basket, and roll on top of all the softs, purring and content now that the confusing delay is over with. Selene takes the Date-loaves and puts them into a drawer where soft things don’t normally go, and then comes over and heaves a sigh at them.

Affection makes a questioning ‘meow’.

A soft  _thunk_  from the kitchen has Selene leaving the room, though. Making her customary ‘what did Des do now’ noises, as she goes.

“It’s not dinner time yet! Get out of there!” she scolds.

Affection hears the distant sound of Des meowing.

“You are  _not_  starving, don’t even try it…”

While Selene is distracted, and Affection is still busy enjoying the lon-derry - feeling sleepy now, with all the warm and good smells all around - Fear jumps down out of the closet. The bigger cat slinks over to the drawer where Selene had put the Date-loaves, and quietly opens it with one paw. Affection meows a question, but Fear doesn’t answer. Sometimes they don’t, though. Instead they just peer in at the Date-loaves.

_Trouble_ , thinks Fear.

_What? How come?_  Affection wonders.

Fear doesn’t really answer, though. And sometimes they see Trouble where there isn’t any. Affection hops out of the lon-derry basket, and peers into the drawer, too. This lon-derry is still warm as well. After a moment, they hop into the drawer. Leaving Fear to sit and watch, tail swishing in unexpected approval, while Affection snuggles on top of the More Warm Lon-derry. After a minute, Fear even surprises them by joining in.

When Selene comes back, though, she makes a noise of distress, and hurriedly pulls Affection out of the drawer.

“No!” she says. “Oh,  _dammit.”_

Affection mews.

Selene makes more swears, and then gives them both a grumpy look as she scoops both cats out of the drawer. The grumpy doesn’t last long, though, especially not when they press a soft paw to her nose, and start to purr. Then she just bops them lightly on the head, and puts them back in the basket. She scolds Fear and puts them onto the bed instead.

“Menaces,” she says. “Now I have to go find the lint roller…”

There’s a  _thud_  from the living room, and the sounds that Dirthamen usually makes when he’s gotten stuck under a blanket. Usually because Deceit knocked one onto him.

Selene sighs.

“I am not a Crazy Cat Lady, I am  _not,”_  she insists, as she turns to go investigate again. “I am not a Crazy Cat Lady…”

Affection purrs and busily rolls around the basket some more, while Fear slinks into the kitchen to find Des.


	6. Chapter 6

Des demands food.

Granted, it is technically still dark out. The numbers on the light by Selene’s bed are blinking a five, a zero, and a one, in that order. But Des is bored, and he did a great deal of running around yesterday - more than usual. He’s antsy, he can’t sleep, and now he’s  _desperately hungry._

He feels like he is going to die if he doesn’t get something to eat, in fact.

So he clambers up towards Selene’s pillow, and meows.

She rolls over. Dislodging Dirthamen, slightly, who blinks the blink of a cat whose dreams have been interrupted. But he’s fine. Des meows again, while Selene folds her pillow in half and covers her ears with it.

She says something entirely incomprehensible.

_Des!_   _What are you doing?_  Dirthamen asks.

_Getting an early breakfast,_  Des replies.

He meows again. Louder, this time. And bats a paw up to displace the pillow.

“Piss off,” Selene tells him.

Des  _wails_  in desperate need, and she shoots straight up. Her hair whips him in the face, accidentally, and the sudden movement sends Dirthamen tumbling off the bed altogether.

“Is it the owl?!” Selene asks, looking worriedly over at the closed bedroom window.

_Feed me,_  Des meows again.

Selene turns her head and regards him in exhausted consternation.

Then she flops back down onto her pillow, while Dirthamen hops back up into his place.

“Piss off,” she says again.

_Oh, it’s gonna be like **that** , is it?_

Des draws a deep breath, and prepares the most obnoxious meowing session of his life.

Ten minutes later, Selene is blearily depositing a scoop full of leftovers into his dish. Des rubs against her legs as he trots over to eat.

She gives him a withering look.

“You are my least favourite cat,” she mutters.

He swishes his tail and thoroughly enjoys his breakfast.


	7. Chapter 7

Selene’s date with Carina is fine.

It’s not great, it’s certainly not  _ **bad**_ , it’s just…fine.

The movie is alright, the antivan restaurant they have dinner at is good, and at the end of the night when Carina drops her off behind the bookstore and walks her to the bottom of the stairs that lead to her apartment Selene isn’t even feeling overly worn down from spending so much time outside of her home. They exchange a kiss (on the lips, no tongue, less than three seconds), and Selene is the first one to say goodbye.

Ostensibly, because she can’t invite Carina into her apartment due to kitty dander and allergies, but…

Selene likes Carina, really. Their conversation about her work over dinner was very intriguing, and everything between them is mostly comfortable. A little awkward, maybe, but dates are supposed to be like that, right? Just a little  _off_ , because it’s new and terrifying and you’re still getting to know one another?

 

She still feels strangely guilty, as she turns the key and unlocks her door, waving goodbye again as Carina drives off. The dwarven woman was very nice, and pleasant, and Selene thoroughly enjoys their text conversations. 

There’s just no heat to it.

 

Carina is very attractive, though. Her eyes are a lovely shade of brown, her hair is silky and well behaved, and Selene really enjoys the profile her nose gives her. There’s no  _drive_  to it, though. No pull, no push, no heat building inside her. Not so much as a spark of arousal.

Maybe she’s just being finicky about it. The company was nice, and the conversation too. Oh, she  _missed_  having conversations outside of work. Is that bad? It’s not great to start a relationship just because you’re lonely, right? That’s definitely not fair to the other person, wouldn’t be fair to Carina…

The door cracks open, and Selene is greeted to a cacophony of mewls inside her home.

She lets out a soft breath.

“Alright, alright,” She hums, carefully nudging Affection back with her foot to keep from knocking them over as she finally opens the door enough to step inside. “I’m back. No need to sound the alarms, it’s just me.”

Des lets out a particularly loud cry as the door shuts behind her, walking a slow circle around her legs as though looking for something.

_Probably food,_  she thinks wryly.

“I fed you before I left,” She reminds him anyways, hanging up her purse and throwing her coat onto the back of the couch. Des stays with her anyways, stuck like a shadow and very nearly bumping into her ankles more than once.

 

Fear and Deceit are perched on the kitchen counter, tails twitching expectantly.

Selene lets out a sigh.

“Alright, fine; no more early dinners.”

 

She makes a small batch of food, at least. Heats up some boneless fish filets and divides them up between the bowls. She stares at the couch for a moment; it’s still early, too early for bed when she’s not even tired. Instead she changes out of the blue dress she had worn on the date, switching into a comfortable pair of sleep shorts and a favorite knit sweater before taking her seat on the couch. 

Dirthamen hops up into her lap almost immediately, kneading gently on the long hem of her top before settling in with a low purr.

“Not hungry?” She asks, rubbing under his chin lightly, the others still gathered around their food dishes. Dirthamen gives a soft mewl in return, and she smiles.

Not quite conversation. But maybe lonely isn’t quite the right word for her anymore, either.

 

_…Damn,_  she realizes as she turns on her television, her ball of fluff still curled up in her lap as the others finish their second dinner and move into their own preferred spots on her furniture.  _Maybe I really **am**  a cat lady now._


	8. Chapter 8

Fear can tell that Selene is trying to get them to go into the Trap Box again.

They have reports from the others on what happens when one gets inside, and is successfully closed-in. The first time the Trap Box appeared, Affection had rushed into with their usual eagerness, happy to find a new blanket and a toy in the back. Selene had closed them into the box, though, and taken them away - much to everyone’s distress.

But Affection had returned a little more than an hour later, speaking of a trip and a strange place that smelled of  _many terrible things,_  but that hadn’t, Affection insisted, ‘been bad’. There had been another woman who had seemed to examine the health of Affection’s feline body, and had proclaimed them hale.

The next to be taken in the box was Des, who elected himself to go. Des’ accounts were mostly the same, but Fear was not satisfied that these excursions were wise. It seemed like too many things could go wrong. What if the Trap Box was stolen from Selene? What if the Vetarinian proved treacherous? What if Falon’Din came back while one of them was trapped and unable to defend themselves from him?

The Trap Box was too small and tight, turning into a larger form while inside it would not work. And the mesh bars at the front, and the air slits at the sides, were too small for even the tiny mouse shape that Fear could take, in a pinch.

It was not safe.

The others decided to go, against Fear’s cautioning. Even Deceit ultimately went, giving in for the sake of their favourite treat - dried salmon pieces - and visiting this  _Vetarinian_.

Fear had hoped that would be the end of it.

But Selene keeps making attempts. So far she has tried toys, treats, and several tricks, including hiding the Trap Box in Fear’s closet and attempting to disguise it. When she pulls it from the front hall closet and sets it down onto the living room floor, Fear opts to retreat to the space at the top of the bookcase with some haste. Last time, Selene had gotten so far as to wrap them in a towel, and had nearly gotten them into the Trap Box before Fear had gone limp and shifted their shape just enough to slide out of her grip and out of the towel as well.

Selene had stopped trying for a while after that, when she got Fear trembling in their behind-the-television hiding place afterwards. Instead she had spent several days imploring them to look less betrayed.

“I know, I know, you hate the crate,” she says at them, gently. “But it’s not so bad! The others did fine, didn’t they?”

Fear hisses.

Selene sighs.

“Alright, I guess there’s nothing left  _but_  to do this the hard way…” she mutters to herself.

Fear does not like the sounds of that.

“Please don’t hate me,” Selene asks.

Fear also does not like the sounds of that.

Selene leaves, and fetches the towel.  _The_  towel. The thick one that makes scratching difficult. Fear determines that the top of the bookshelf is not an ideal defense post, and makes a run for it. The bedroom window was open the last they checked, but it is closed now. They make their way under the bed; it is always hardest to catch them there, because Selene cannot reach from one side to the other, so Fear can simply move any time she gets too close, without leaving their cover. They call for Deceit, who makes a mental sigh but then offers to get into the Trap Box instead. But Selene shoo’s Deceit back out - not satisfied with that, apparently. She brings the Trap Box into the bedroom, and then she does the unthinkable.

She calls Marassal up from the store, and into the  _private living space._

Fear does not realize it until they see the familiar bare feet and ankle bracelets appear alongside Selene’s at the doorway to the bedroom.

No! Now there are  _two_  elves to contest with! Their plan did not account for that. Fear weighs the odds, the bed no longer being an ideal defensible position, and decides to make a bolt for it. The door to the shop might be open, and the shop has many more ideal spaces to hide in. They rush the bedroom door, but they aren’t anticipating Marassal’s reflexes. Or that  _he_  has a towel as well.

Foolish. Foolish of them.

The heavy, thick fabric engulfs Fear before they can reach the door, and they  _panic._

It is almost a blessing. If Fear had been thinking rightly, they might have changed shape, which would have blown their cover and ruined everything. But in the moment, they are too overcome to manage even that much logic. And so they hiss and yowl and try to scratch and bite instead, finding only thick, treacherous towel fabric around them, before they are shoved into the Trap Box.

The swing of the door closing is like ice in their veins.

“It’s okay!” Selene says. “It’s okay, you’re okay, it’s alright-”

Fear shakes, and tries to think of a solution to this horrifying turn of events. This disaster. They are going to get cornered in here. Falon’Din is coming for them. The Vetarinian will vivisect them, like Ghilan’nain. The box will be stolen and someone will throw it into a river and Fear will not be able to get out, no, this is  _not good!_

Selene thanks Marassal, and then returns to cooing gently at them as she picks up the Trap Box.

“It’s alright, easy, you’re okay,” she tells them again.

Fear meows back plaintively. Perhaps if they can appeal to her better nature, she will let them out?

Please let them out!

Selene’s expression through the bars looks as though it is wavering.

She presses one of Fear’s favourite treats through a side slot instead, though. The offering may as well be dust to Fear, who hunches themselves towards the back of the box, and breathes heavily. Deceit begins to meow plaintively too, and then Dirthamen. After a minute even Des joins in, following Selene as she starts to make her way towards the door.

“I know, guys, I know, but it’ll be fine. We’ll be back in no time, okay? Then you’ll  _all_  be checked out and chipped and that’s safer for everyone.”

Safer?

What about this is safe?!

“Trust me,” Selene asks.

Fear stares up at her uncertainly through the box’s slats.

They… they do trust her, they suppose. To an extent. She saved Dirthamen, after all, and she is a good elf. She gives them things and looks after them. It is not that Fear  _distrusts_ her, or thinks she has bad intentions. It is just that… so much can go wrong. And she does not have all of the facts. They do not know why she thinks this would make them ‘safer’…

Maybe Fear does not have all the facts, either.

They try.

It is very hard to no be afraid. Fear does not succeed, but they focus on breathing steadily and watching everything they can see through the front door of the cage. Selene carries them back down to the shop, walking with Marassal, and then says goodbye to him. He wishes her luck as she takes Fear out onto the street. The day is sunny but not too warm. The outdoor scents are typical, but it is a very strange experience, to be publicly carried down the main roads. Selene takes Fear to a bench, and offers them a few more treats. She makes gentle noises and insists that everything is going well, but Fear does not like the loud transport machine that roars up towards them after several minutes. It smells of death, and is full of strangers. Selene puts a towel down over the door of the Trap Box, so that Fear does not see the bevy of elves around them. But they can still sense things.

They can still hear the jangle of a collar, too, the distinctive sound of a noise sniffing nearby. One of Selene’s hands settles over the vent slit one the far side of the box.

“Excuse me, sorry, but my cat’s a little anxious. Could you keep your dog from getting too close?”

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s friendly!”

“Yes, I’m sure he is. It’s just that my cat’s anxious…”

“Off to the vet?”

“Mmhmm. Could you-”

“We’re going to the groomers ourselves, and then to the new dog park they opened on fifty-second-”

“Great.”

The Trap Box moves, and Selene settles both arms around it, as Fear feels her put it onto her lap instead. They try to see what they can through the slits in the sides, and spy a small dog with a sparkly collar, and an older woman who keeps talking blithely about play dates and asking Selene if she’s a ‘cat person’ or just in animal lover in general. Selene hedges an answer, while someone else coughs and the monstrous transport rumbles, and Fear counts at least a half dozen threats and only gets more stressed at not being able to assess them all.

It seems to take them a small eternity to make whatever trip they are on. Fear can feel every frantic thump of their heart, but eventually, they move again. Selene removes the towel from the front of the Trap Box, and carries them out of the wretched machine and onto an unfamiliar sidewalk, with lots of green grass beside it.

“Fucking…” she mutters to herself. “Keep your damn dog away from my cat, is that so hard? ‘Oh he’s friendly!’ Well that’s not the point you self-centered dumbass…”

There is a bit more muttering before Selene switches tones and then starts assuring Fear that everything will be fine, and that they have arrived at their destination. The building she carries them too does, indeed, smell awful. It smells of the things Selene uses to keep her bathroom clean, and like too many other animals. There is barking coming from inside, which Selene assures Fear is ‘fine’. They can only watch with wide eyes as they are carried into this, the realm of the Vetarinian. Vetarinia, they would presume.

Many spirits whisper that this is a place where animals come to die.

Fear is not a real animal, but that is still greatly concerning, for obvious reasons.

Fear watches as they enter a strange room. The barking seems to be coming from another one. There is a counter, almost like the one at the shop. But perhaps more like a desk? Selene approaches it, and gives her name to a young elf behind it, saying that she has the ‘two thirty’. The young elf says it will just be another ten minutes, because the ‘doctor’ is with another difficult patient. Selene thanks them and then carries Fear over to a row of seats, and sits down with the Trap Box in her lap again.

From where they are positioned, Fear can see the door, but not much else. They watch, vigilant. Waiting to see what will happen next. After a few minutes, the door swings open, and a vashoth woman enters. She has a young child with her, and a smaller Trap Box in her arms. There is a turtle printed onto the exterior of the box. The child looks around the room, and then spots Fear.

“Kitty!” he exclaims.

He moves as if to rush them. Fear retreats to the back of the box, the only possible defensive position. A child is not a danger but they have no recourse, here, even to unintended harm. Before the boy can charge over to them, though, his mother grasps his arm and pulls him back to her side.

“No, remember?” she admonishes gently. “Some animals here are sick, sweetheart, we have to use our quiet voices.”

The little boy looks chastened, but also like he would still enjoy running over very much. Selene puts the towel back over the door, then. Which almost makes it worse, as Fear cannot see what is happening, cannot tell if anything worse might be  _coming._  There is a shuffling sound, and then Selene seems to drape herself over the top of the box, too. Or, no - that is her sweater, Fear realizes. She must have taken it off and draped it over, shrouding them in darkness.

Leaving more of her own skin exposed.

That is not good.

But it does make the box smell slightly more of Selene, and less of the room around them. They hear a childish voice pipe up, asking if he can see the kitty, but Selene gently informs him that Fear is very anxious to be at the vet and is too scared to play with right now. The little boy talks avidly about his turtle, who is getting a ‘check-up’. Then something thumps at the box, and his small voice rings out in assurance that everything is going to be fine.

His mother apologizes.

“It’s okay,” Selene says, before letting out a long breath. “Of course,” she says, more quietly, afterwards. “The one time I bring  _you_ , it’s all kids and dogs, it couldn’t just be chinchillas like it was last time…”

There is the sound of a door opening, then.

A scrambling of paws on smooth floor and loud barking, heavy breathing, like a beast the size of a small dragon has just erupted into the room.

“Oh no, Lady!”

The Trap Box is rocked as something massive attacks! Fear hears the breaths so close that for a moment, they think the box is being swallowed whole. They yowl in alarm, digging in their claws and summoning up some magic, before they are jostled again.

“SERIOUSLY?!” Selene exclaims.

“I’m so sorry, miss, she’s friendly I promise, she’s just excitable! Purebred mabaris, you know, they’re too smart for their own good and they have all this energy when they’re young. She’s still just a year old-”

“GET HER  _OFF!”_

“Yeah, yeah, it’s okay, I’ve got her. She won’t bite. Come on, Lady, let’s go…”

Fear has no direction for their magic, yet. No target. But just as they’re about to blast the towel off of the door, so they can find one, the attack seems to come to an end. The scrambling claws are drawn further away. Barking becomes whining. The stranger jokes that ‘Lady’ must be  _very_  interested in whatever Selene has with her, while Selene suddenly goes back to saying calming things. She lefts the sweater and smiles down at Fear through the visible slat.

“It’s okay!” she tells them. “We’re okay! Just a lot of visitors. Like at the shop!”

Fear trembles. Ready for anything, now, but only in the worst way.

“Selene?” Another stranger calls. “You can come in now!”

“Thank fuck,” Selene murmurs. They move again, but Fear cannot see anything, now. They are just trapped in the dark box, jostling slightly with Selene’s steps. Until they are settled onto some kind of surface. Then the towel is taken from the door again, and a stranger peers at them. Elven. Smiling. The Vetarinian, they suspect. She makes a soft coo sound.

“Oh, poor thing. You’re terrified, hm? Let’s get this over with quick then.”

Fear tries to make themselves as small a target as possible.

The door to the Trap Box is opened.

Another trap, they think. They are meant to take the opening, and come out. But if they don’t, then they are an easy target, too. There is no way to evade anything in the box. They only have one chance, then. They bolt through the opening, only to be foiled again by the towel. The strange elf picks them up. Fear hisses in protest, struggling, but they have a very firm grip. Selene is nearby, saying something. They cannot hear it over the roar of blood in their ears, as they brace themselves and wonder if they  _will_  have to transform in order to attack…

The Vetarinian settles them onto a smooth surface.

Selene speaks with the Vetarinian. The towel is removed. Fear has troubles keeping track of what is said, as they focus keenly on how the stranger is moving, and try to find places to hide or escape to in the odd room with its silver floors and tan counters. Fear is poked and prodded and has lights shined on them, they do not like it; when Selene moves to hold them, they latch onto her. Consolidating them into a single defensive unit, so that if or when they need to use magic to summon a barrier or offensive spell, Fear can protect them both. They Vetarinian has brisk, firm hands, covered by gloves. Fear sinks their claws into Selene’s shirt, and dislikes it most when their mouth is opened and their teeth and gums examined.

“You should put them down, they might bite like this when I put in the needle,” the Vetarinian says.

Needle?

What needle?!

Fear summons up dim recollections of the others recounting a single, small puncture wound. Though they had not seemed to suffer ill-affects, Fear might be an exception. Something could go awry. Needles are dangerous, they have seen it on the Light Box!

“It’s fine,” Selene says. “They don’t bite.”

“Well…”

“I’ll deal with it.”

“Hold their head, at least.”

Selene pets their head, and Fear turns as they hear something crinkling open. They do not see the needle. They feel something prick at their back, like an errant claw or a bug. When they hiss, though, the pain withdraws. Their claws sink into Selene’s bra straps, and her petting increases.

“Good job,” she tells them. “Good job, what a good cat you are…”

Fear glares at the Vetarinian, and refuses to be dislodged from where they have secured themselves against Selene.

“Well, this one seems as healthy as all the others,” the stranger proclaims. “But based on what you’ve described, I think you’re right about it being Feline Anxiety. It’s not uncommon, even among cats who haven’t been strays. I’m going to give you a prescription…”

Fear’s ears are so flat against their head that when the Vetarinian turns, they have troubles hearing them any further. They move towards a Light Box, and type in something that is printed out, like a receipt, except larger. Selene tries to coax Fear back into the Trap Box, which they are  _not_  going to do. They tear several holes into her shirt before she decides to put the sweater on over both of them instead. The warm, Selene-smelling fabric settles over Fear’s back, but leaves their head to peer up from the collar. Selene wraps an arm securely around them, and tells the Vetarinian she will ‘sort them out’, when the other woman asks if she would like assistance.

Selene puts the large Prescription Receipt into her purse. She carries in and the Trap Box in her free hand, and then they go back out into the room they were in before. The little vashoth boy stares at Fear, while Selene makes some kind of transaction with the young elf behind the counter. At least until he and his mother and their turtle-box are summoned into the room. Then Selene carries Fear back outside.

It is less harrowing to travel when they are not trapped.

Fear closes their eyes as they settle onto the bench. Selene rubs their back through the sweater, and whispers apologies, and insists that they are a very good cat who is very brave and who will not have to do that again. She makes one more attempt to get them back into the Trap Box before another rumbling, monstrous transport comes, but Fear does not think that is a good idea. They keep their claws firmly embedded in her bra straps.

Selene takes them onto the transport in her sweater instead. The driver protests that Fear should be in the Trap Box, but Selene assures him that they will keep a firm hand on Fear and after some cajoling, they are not waylaid further. The transport seems emptier this time, too. Fear keeps a watchful lookout, as the streets go by through the window.

Somehow, they manage to make it home without any further attacks.

As soon as they are in the shop, Fear lets go of Selene and runs off to find a good hiding spot. They climb up one of the tall bookshelves and wedge themselves into a shadow at the top, near the back wall of the most quiet part of the store. Selene talks with Marassal briefly, then goes upstairs. The others come down, eager to see Fear. Deceit launches themselves up the shelves and nuzzles at them, while Affection meows protests because they cannot climb so high. Dirthamen and Des remain at the bottom, too, simply checking. Listening as Fear describes the harrowing journey.

_Huh,_  Des says.  _That sounds much more interesting than when I went._

_Lucky me,_  Fear drawls.

Selene comes back, then, and has a new toy and a small dish full of Fear’s favourite tuna. The fresh kind. They are wary of another trap, though, and do not come down. When Selene sets the dish down, and moves away from it a little, Affection eats the tuna. Selene scolds them, then sighs and tosses the toy up to Fear. Or attempts to. It slips and falls back to the floor with a soft jangle, only to be scooped up by Des.

Selene scolds Des, too, but he carries the offering up and puts it with Fear and Deceit, and then Selene makes her sounds for when she thinks they are being endearing instead.

Fear stays up on top of the bookshelf until it is closing time. They come down, reluctantly, with some cajoling from Deceit, but then dash swiftly back up the stairs and into the apartment. Rushing to their best lookout post in their closet, with its view of the bedroom window. They skip dinner, having no desire to eat right now. After a few hours, Selene comes and sets their bowl of food down in front of the closet, and sits on the edge of her bed.

“Come on,” she says. “We’re back home, it’s alright. Come have dinner!”

Fear declines.

Selene is being unusually persistent, however. She scoops Affection up when they try and eat Fear’s dinner, and cuddles them in her lap instead. Then she does the same to Dirthamen, too - not that he seemed intent on eating Fear’s food anyway.

She sighs when Deceit comes in, and admonishes them not to eat Fear’s food. Deceit just clambers up to the top of the closet, though.

_Just eat,_  they suggest to Fear.

_Not interested._

_She’s going to worry if you don’t. Living things eat food every day._

_I ate this morning._

Deceit subsides, with a mental sigh. Fear presses firmly against their side, and waits for Selene to give up.

Eventually she does. She takes the bowl of food and announces that it is  _Fear’s_  food, and that they can have it whenever they come down. Then she goes into the living room, to watch the last half of her favourite show. Fear remains at their post, and listens to the distant murmur of the Light Box, as Deceit opts to stay with them for now. Des and Affection play; Dirthamen, presumably, is in his usual spot on Selene’s lap.

Fear listens, but after a while they find they are twitchy with not  _seeing._  Still too highly-strung. They jump down, Deceit trailing after them, and make their way into the living room. Their tail swishes with lingering agitation. They have scarcely ensconced themselves in their Living Room Lookout post, though, before Selene nudges Dirthamen off of her lap and gets up. She comes back a moment later, though, with Fear’s food. They blink as she settles it on top of the bookcase with them.

_Persistent,_  they tsk.

_Told you,_  Deceit replies.

Fear sighs, and makes their own capitulation. They keep one eye on the living room as they eat. The food is good. More of their favourite tuna, in fact. There is part of it that they dislike, though, which is a small white seed. Chalky, oddly sweet on their tongue. Fear spits it out into a corner of their dish, and finishes the tuna. When they are done, Selene comes and retrieves the empty bowl.

She sighs at the chalky seed.

“I guess that was a long shot, huh?”

Fear does not know what she means. But after a moment, they suppose they can reciprocate the gesture. They know what it is like to be worried, after all. So they inch forward, and press their nose to her hand. Selene pauses, and then pets at their head. Fear nuzzles her palm. They know she did her best to keep them safe. Harrowing as that experience was… she succeeded, too.

At least, provided that the prick of pain in their back was not some kind of long-acting flesh-devouring curse that will destroy them slowly over the coming months.

They they withdraw closer to the wall again, and consider that possibility as they wait for bedtime to come.


	9. Chapter 9

Mortals are a very strange bunch.

Fun, yes.

But strange.

Selene, their current caretaker, has been strewn over the couch for two full days now. Piles of mucus covered tissues are littering the floor, and the low volume of the television is often broken by a sudden and sharp inhalation as she attempts to force her nostrils to clear.

As though perhaps  _this_  time will be different than the last several hundred attempts.

 

Normally, Des might compliment her for finally taking a few moments for herself.

But this has been going on for far, far too many moments.

 

“They always go for the ice cream,” She mutters, one hand limply gesturing towards the screen while the other scritches weakly at the nape of Affections neck where they’re curled up on her chest- Dirthamen had forgone his usual spot, after an unfortunate and unexpected sneezing incident- “Those dummies…it’s a cookie challenge….they’re gonna get gummi bears or lunch meat or something when the sabotages come in and then what….roast beef ice cream? Gross…”

 

Des’s tail swishes slowly behind him as he watches the steam finally dissipate, her tea long forgotten and officially cold on the table behind her head.

Tea that had taken her an hour to make, tired and exhausted and complaining about how heavy her kettle’d gotten ‘all of a sudden’. She’d barely even gotten the bake on his fish right, practically falling asleep on her feet at the stove and near burning it.

 

No, no.

Something has to be done.

 

_Don’t._  Fear warns, anticipating his plan even before he voices it.

But Fear always warns about everything; about food and fun and even about coming to Selene in the first place. So their disagreements don’t hold much weight, frequent and anxiety driven as they are.

 

_It’s fine._  Des shrugs mentally, watching as Selenes eyelids grow heavier and she mumbles a quiet ’ _see?’_ while the judge on the television informs a chef that it wasn’t an ice cream challenge, and their cookie is too dense.

 

_Could you manage it?_  Dirthamen asks, curious as ever.

 

Des does an affirmative full body shake in response, his fur fluffing out nicely with the movement.

_I don’t see why not. I’ve been here longest, and my power’s have been returning nicely._

 

_**Don’t.**  _Fear repeats.

 

_She wants someone to help,_  Des assures them, watching as she finally dozes off into a deep slumber.  _Who are we to deny her that, after everything?_

 

Fear gives a quiet hiss from up in their corner as Des begins the shift; elongating bones, fur turned to flesh. Broad shoulders and dotted skin, thick thighs and hair long enough to brush the backs of them. He stretches out and relishes the feeling of being bipedal for a solid minute.

 

_She is going to wake up!_ Fear admonishes, and Des lets out a loud sigh.

“Yes, fine. Just let me clean up a bit.”

 

He snags a clean tissue first, as a barrier-he may not actually be able to  _get_  sick, but it’s still gross to touch-  and shuffles all of the piles of used tissues into a plastic bag he’s seen her use for garbage before. Then he takes the abandoned cup of tea and pours it out, cleaning the cup and the dishes still sitting in the sink while he’s at it.

The garbage itself could probably stand to be taken out, but Fear blocks his path entirely when he tries to step outside with it.

 

_The neighbors will see you, and ask questions neither she or we can answer._

 

Des tsks but relents the point, leaving the bag tied up and beside the can in the kitchen instead, which is sporting a brand new bag now anyways.

 

Dirthamen hops up onto the counter, carefully placing down the washcloth he had carried in from the bathroom down beside the sink.

  
_I read in one of her books that a cold cloth can help with overheating, which can become a severe problem if she has what they call a 'fever’._

 

_She_ _ **is**_ _abnormally warm,_ Deceit chimes in. _Even for her._

 

“Thanks,”Des grins, patting Dirthamen on the head before running the washcloth under the cold water and wringing it out. The other cat takes the cloth back in his mouth and carefully hops onto the couch to lay it out over her forehead.

 

The sudden cold seems to startle her though, as Selene shifts and her eyes blinks.

 

Des stills, as do the rest of them.

Selene stares at him.

Standing in her kitchen in his elven form, hands still wet from the water, and still without clothing.

 

 

But Des has always been a quick thinker.

 

“This is a dream,” He says with a little less certainty than he means to.

Selene blinks.

 

“You will feel better if you go further into the dream,” Deceit chimes in, hopping up onto the back of the couch and into Selenes line of sight. Their paw taps gently at the cloth on her forehead, next to Dirthamens. “Close your eyes and try to fall asleep again.”

Selene blinks, a bit slower this time.

 

Des can feel his heart hammering in his chest and thinks as loudly as he can at Fear

_If you even THINK of saying 'I told you so-’_

 

_Why would I need to? **You** already have._

 

But Selene just nods, letting out a tired yawn while she pats at the top of Deceits head.

“Good kitty,” She hums before her eyes close again, and she falls back asleep.

 

They all let out a collective breath of relief, and Des shifts back into his cat form before their luck can run out.

 

_Alright, well,_  Des says as he yawns, tired from using more magic than he has in centuries, and more cleaning than he’s done in a millenia.  _I think that was a resounding success._

 

Fear tosses a blanket over their head and moves into the closet to fume silently, while Deceit and Dirthamen stay to watch over the sleeping Selene and Affection.

 

_A_ _ **resounding**_ _success,_  he repeats confidently.


	10. Chapter 10

The lights inside Selenes apartment flicker on and off, the roof creaking quietly overhead under the weight of the still falling snow.

“Come on, come on…” She mutters, staring up at her ceiling as the fan slows and speeds, the bulb blinking before it finally gives out. A low hum blows through her home as all of her electronics simultaneously shut down, and she’s left in the darkness of the late evening hour.

 

A long, low meowl can be heard from the back of her hall closet.

She lets out a sigh as she stands from the couch, Dirthamen hopping quickly out of her lap at the movement.

 

“Alright, everyone into the living room!” She calls out, moving to the hall closet where Fear is huddled onto the top shelf, caught between whether to curl deeper into the darkness or go check on the rest of their friends.

Selene doesn’t give them much of a choice in the matter as she grabs an armful of blankets and scoops them up, carrying them back into the living room.

They squirm out of her arms as soon as she gives them the space, leaping onto the back of the couch and giving her a rather dirty look.

 

Selene spreads out one of her larger blankets on the floor, gesturing in a clear ‘see?’ expression as Deceit, Des, and Dirthamen all settle in on top of it.

Fear settles slightly and she shakes her head as they stay atop the couch, rather than joining in with the rest of them.

 

Selene leaves the room again, briefly, to grab the pillows off of her bed, and nearly trips over Deceit when she turns to go back.

“I was gone for  _five seconds,_ ”she mutters, gently nudging them with her foot to avoid any chance of stepping on them on her way back.

 

She tosses the pillows into a large pile against the foot of the couch, and crawls forward to open up the normally-closed fireplace beneath where her television hangs on the wall.

“Someone remind me to clean this when we’re not in danger of freezing to death by going outside,” She says aloud, not really expecting any sort of reaction.

Des gives a mewl that sounds like some sort of acknowledgment anyways.

“…Thanks.”

 

It’s a bit dusty, but she’s got spare wood in the kitchen she’s able to load into the fireplace, and its only a moments work for her to start a flame.

She settles in against the pile of pillows and has barely pulled the blanket over herself before she’s been practically covered by cuddling, purring, cats.

 

“Well,” She notes with amusement. “I was going to mention how we should all stay out here to keep warm until the power comes back on, but you all seem to have figured that out on your own, hm?”

Dirthamen rumbles a little louder against her chest, and she rubs gently at the fur behind his ears and smiles “Clever cats.”

 

It’s poor fire safety to fall asleep close to the open flame, especially while it’s still roaring and healthy. But in the dark of the stormy night, beneath the warmth and the comfort of her strange little family, Selene allows herself to doze off to a night of sweet, friend-filled dreams.


End file.
